The Truth about Jude
by blackbirdxsinging
Summary: I loved Jude. That was the problem. The huge problem in the puzzle that I was left to piece together after he left for America and became a man."
1. Chapter 1

People have displayed me as a slut, as a bitch, and my personal favorite, a whiny little sneak

People have displayed me as a slut, as a bitch, and my personal favorite, a whiny little sneak. I am the other girl. I am the second choice. I was the woman who fell in love with the most charming boy in Liverpool.

I am Molly Edison. And this is my story.

I remember seeing Jude at the backstreets of Liverpool everyday in high school. He would be standing at the sidewalk waiting for his friends in dark jeans and a leather jacket. Not what he's like now at all. He was one of those boys, those bad boys, those irresistible boys who could make you faint with a glance from their dark eyes.

Me and my best mate Julia would walk by them every afternoon, carrying our books school-girl style. I guess that we were school girls, so that would make sense. Jude would never look twice at us. I don't think he ever noticed us flip our hair as we walked past. He probably didn't even notice that when we were exactly five steps away from him, we would count to three and look back—the classic flirt in our days. No, he wouldn't notice us. Ever. So I had to go up to him.

Jude carried his backpack with one strap over his shoulder. Just something about that fact made him so much more irresistible to everyone in my class.

I remember the conversation that me and the girls had back in class… When the teacher turned her back, we would scribble notes down and pass them around. Usually they were about hair, or movies… But that day, it was about Julian Michael Pheeney.

_He wants a bad girl._ Was definitely repeated more than once. After asking what a bad girl was, half of them laughed and one of them wrote it down.

_He wants a girl that is willing to go __all the way._

Being a lady, I hadn't had much talk about this at all. I mean, I knew about it—was there any way to avoid it?—but nobody, especially me and my group of friends, actually talked about it, let alone _do _it.

But when me and Julia walked past him, my need to run my hands through his hair must have shown, because she pulled me aside and whispered,

"How far are you willing to go to get him?"

And I didn't know how to react. But I saw his dark mop of hair over her shoulder and I let out a sigh of desperation. "As far as I can go." I admitted, my heart throbbing.

Julia then bought me ridiculous costumes, equivalent to what the girls in the whore-house wore. Well, maybe not as bad. But there were fishnet stockings, there were micro-mini-skirts, and tight enough shirts to cut off my stomachs circulation, if that was possible. And then the shoes—the horrible shoes. I was about three inches taller than all of my friends because of those goddamned shoes.

And as me and Julia walked by, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

It was enough to make me jump right out of my shoes, but I remembered what my friends had told me…

_Think natural, act natural, be natural. _

And I turned around slowly.

"What's your name?" He asked in his thick Liverpool accent.

"Molly." I said as sexily as I could. If I hadn't practiced it a billion times in the mirror, I would have thrown up all over him.

"Where do you go to school, Molly?"

"AGH."

"Why haven't I seen you?" He asked, and my heart throbbed. I was in love from the first conversation we had together.

"I don't know." I managed to say.

"Let me take you out."

And so it began. Jude began dating me, taking me out every Friday night to the club across the street.

Despite my frustrated protests, Julia insisted on me continuing to wear the skimpy outfits she had put together. "Maybe he likes me for who I am…"

And as the dates began, so did the smoking. Jude smoked like a chimney all through high school, and I ignored it at first… but the second hand smoke took over and I began stepping out of class to smoke with him.

When Jude dropped out of school to work in the docks, he started to take an interest in other girls. It wasn't fair. I had worked so hard to get him to take me on a date, and he was checking out the girls at the docks. I felt so frustrated… I almost _knew_ he was cheating on me. That's when I became 'over-protective' of Jude.

"Where were you last night? I was waiting for you forever last night."

"I had work to do."

He wouldn't even apologize. That's when I decided that it would be best for our relationship if I slept with him… so I did.

That night was very blurry. I remember him picking me up and taking me to Mattie's, which was a popular bar back in Liverpool. I had my first glass of whiskey, because I knew that I was going to want to forget what I was about to do. Then he took me upstairs and had me, right in the bar owners bed room.

I was wearing my best dress that day. He was so eager to have me, he pulled my best dress—which may I add, I wore to church every Sunday—and ripped it right down the sides. When he was finished, lying in the bed, I got up and slipped on my dress, only to find he had made it as exposing as the outfits I wore for him on a daily basis.

I got dressed at Julia's house that night. I was drunk and embarrassed. I couldn't face my parents that way. She dressed me in something decent, which was a great change.

I slept in her room, with a blanket and pillow on the ground next to her bed. I remember crying into the pillow, asking myself why I had to fall in love with someone like him… someone that wouldn't look twice at me unless I dressed in next-to-nothing.

I loved Jude. That was the problem. The huge problem in the puzzle that I was left to piece together after he left for America and became a man.


	2. Chapter 2

The next date that Jude and I went on was slightly awkward

The next date that Jude and I went on was slightly awkward. I was wearing the most beautiful sundress I had in my closet, not that there was much to chose from. I didn't have much clothing in the house, and to think about it, neither did he. Both of our households were running out of money—and quick. Jude could barely afford to take me out to any of the popular clubs, so he would take me to an underground club called… you guessed it… The Underground, where everyone stunk of old cigarettes and cheap alcohol. It wasn't much, and they barely played anything that was worth dancing to.

Jude would stand around, and then eventually he would begin to dance, his hands on my waist. I would copy every other girl there, trying to fit in. I wanted to be the perfect girlfriend. I wanted Jude to love me. How ridiculous was I, to think Jude would fall in love with me?

After the dancing, he would take me home to his house, and he would kiss me in the alley. I don't remember Jude ever talking to me, ever. Only when I spoke to him.

Back then, I thought Jude was an asshole. I wanted to hate him, but I loved him so much, it was impossible. I couldn't stand not to be near him. I wanted him so badly, all the time.

But what I thought was him being a jerk, was just him being insensitive, trying to block out the pain that was constantly flowing through him.

"Jude, I love you." I said it often. I knew it was something people edged around in a relationship. No one said 'I love you', even if they loved you so much they would die. He would often look away, or let go of my hand. What I thought was him being a jerk, was him being upset.

For a long time, Jude couldn't hold on to love. His father had left home before he was born, leaving his love-sick mother alone. Every boyfriend of his mother always ended up sneaking out through the back window. He didn't know what to think about love.

_Maybe,_ I think to myself sometimes, _Maybe if he had learned to love when he was with me, he would have stayed with me._

But Jude couldn't have learned to love in Liverpool. Liverpool; at the time, was a depressing place. In the news, you read about suicides and deaths all the time. The streets were stone, and everything was always wet from the English rain that seemed to constantly pour down. To make matters worse, there was always a man in the park playing a sad song on his trumpet, sad enough to make anyone cry.

America, however, was the city of revolution. When Jude moved there, I know what he was thinking about at first. The fast girls. The sex. But the longer he lived there, the more he saw the beauty in the little things around him. The singing in the streets, the never-ending business. The barefoot marches, the peace throughout the town… the food, the parties, the dancing, the cars… Jude fell in love with New York. That's how he learned to love.

_Molly,_

_I've met a man named Max, he is quite the guy. He has a little sister named Lucy, and they're moving in the apartment I'm staying in. _

_-Jude_

That was the first and last letter he sent me. He didn't even ask me how I was, or how _he _was for that matter. Just about the Carrigans.

That's when I knew I was losing Jude. I began writing five letters a day, each two pages long. I missed him so much, and I knew that if he ever came back, it wouldn't be for me.

Julia would come over to my house for school to find me asleep on the floor, my hand still trying to write words on a letter to my boyfriend so far away.

"You have to grow up, Molly. Think about it. This is Jude, we're talking about."

"But he said that he would be back…"

I look back and look at myself as pathetic, but strong in a way. After finding out that I was pregnant, I had a mature response, I wrote to Jude right away. And cried.

I knew he wasn't coming back. I knew that Jude had just done what his father had done to him, 24 years ago. He had abandoned his first child before it was even born.

After a while, I got my mind off of him. My heart still ached for him, every day, but I learned to ignore him, and I got back to school.

I would be scribbling a note to Jude down on the margins, and the next minute crumbling it up and tossing it across the room.

The first few months were okay. Despite the sickness everytime I smelt food. But then my stomach started to swell, and people noticed.

I was the topic of discussion at teacher's college. People would whisper behind my backs. My best friend Julia abandoned me, not wanting to be known as _my_ best friend. I was _Jude's_ old girlfriend. I was Jude's whore. I was Jude's playgirl… think of anything, I was probably called that.

As for me, I tried to pretend it wasn't ripping me apart inside. At lunch, I would sit in the bathroom and cry. No one would go in the bathroom, because they knew _I_ was in there.

It was agonizing. Especially on my own. I didn't have Jude, I didn't have Julia. The only thing I had was this baby, and it wasn't even born at the time.

The only person who would talk to me, actually, was Phil.

Phil had broken his leg earlier, and was staying at my house. My mother was rarely ever home, always out at her boyfriends house, so it was fine with me if Phil stayed, as long as he didn't disturb me when I was studying. I barely got any work done at school, so I had to do as much as I could at home.

In that time, Phil became my best friend. He would sit with me when I cried, and not ask what was wrong. He already knew. He would rock me back and forth, just listening to me cry… And then he would put a hand on my stomach and wait for my baby to kick. He was like my brother. I loved him so much.

I had received a call from Martha; Jude's mother, that Jude was coming back to Liverpool, and I almost exploded in happiness. I got together my best clothes and I baked him an apple pie.

I believe that while it was cooling, actually, when I received the call from Martha again. She had told me that Jude wasn't coming home because he wanted to see me.

I almost laughed, but I felt sick. I knew what was coming.

"He has a girlfriend, Molly."

I dropped that pie right on the ground.

I remember screaming while crying, running in my room and ripping up everything that Jude had given me… His letter, his photographs, everything. I finally collapsed on the bed, and Phil was there, kissing my forehead.

"Everything will be alright…"


	3. Chapter 3

"Look who's comin'

"Look who's comin'." One of the girls hissed bitterly, seeing Jude, and stayed by my side to watch the show.

He walked up towards me, awkwardly.

"How's it goin', Jude?" I asked as casually as I could, trying to recite the lines I had practiced in front of the mirror billions of times. I don't know why everything had to be rehearsed before talking to Jude. Maybe I was afraid of him finding out how I really felt. First it was me loving him. Now it's me loving him _still._

"Good." He said quietly, avoiding eye contact. "When did you and Phil hitch up?"

I feel hurt at that, and feel my baby moving around in my stomach. I put a hand on it, trying to calm it down. How could he think that me and Phil were hitched? I was not attracted to Phil in any way at all… I loved Jude, I always had, and I think that I always will. "Two weeks after you stopped writing." I said bitterly, knowing that he hadn't read my letters.

"Babies on the way… that's great." He said softly, noting my swelled stomach. My heart ached and longed to tell him that it was his, but I held back.

"What was the name?" I ask, not something that I had rehearsed.

"Who?"

"The reason you stopped writing."

I could tell I had hit him hard. He looked away, and breathed a short sigh. He was hurting. "Her name was Lucy." He said awkwardly. "It was good… for a while… It seems a bit unreal."

He looked like he was ready to cry.

"Is this real enough for you?" I say coldly.

Phil looks at me, and kisses me on the cheek in a complete friendly way. He walks over to the docks, where he still worked. Jude walked past me, and the girls immediately started off.

"Look at that Molly, dumped and back to Liverpool and he still dosent want you."

"Tell me, Molly, is Phil good in bed?"

"Whoring around with Jude _and_ Phil, Molly?"

Tears filled my eyes and I pushed them all away, running over to Phil, walking over to the docks.

I pull his shoulder and he spins around. Tears run down my face.

"What the hell are you doing??" I scream helplessly.

"What are you talking about, Molly?"

I point over to where we were standing. "I love Jude, and now he thinks I'm with _you!_ Everyone does!"

He looks at me, his eyes mixed with sympathy and confusion. "Molly, I…"

"The girls will never let this go! Do you have any idea on what I'm going through right now?? Especially with this baby?"

He looked at my stomach. "I didn't think that it would matter if I stood with you..."

I was about to yell something back in his face, but I felt my stomach sting violently.

I yelped loudly, and then breathed through my nose.

"Molly?" Phil asked. "Molly!"

I held my stomach, my eyes squinted shut.

"Molly, are you okay?"

"Leave me alone." I managed to grunt, making my way quickly and painfully through the crowd of people. Phil ran up behind me.

I looked at him, my face straining, at the curb of the sidewalk.

"Molly, you need to get to a hospital."

I want to shove him away, but I'm tired of pushing people away, always letting them out and never letting them in. I nodded weakly and held my stomach. It stung again, and I gasped.

"Stay here, okay? I'm getting a car, right now." He ran off to go get his car, and the girls automaticly swarmed.

"Molly, are you okay?" one of them asked.

"Oh my god, somebody call an ambulance."

I knew that none of them actually respected me, knowing that they had all called me a slut the month before. But I needed all the comfort I could get… I was about to have Jude's baby in the middle of the street.

Phil's car was coming up, and I looked anxiously at him through the window. I walked as fast as I could over to the car, and then sat in the backseat. It was a split second before I shut the door when I heard someone say,

"Whore."

My arm slipped and I didn't shut the door properly, and I let out another gasp, mixed with a yell and a sob when my contractions started again.

"Go, Phil!" I screamed finally, and he sped off a lot faster than the limit.

I had my baby in the hospital parking lot.

There wasn't any time to get me out of the car, like they could get me out of the car, anyways… so they brought a doctor out to the car, sliding on plastic gloves as he ran, and another group of people that must have been nurses.

Phil's car wasn't very spacious, so it must have looked very strange. They had both of the doors open, a nurse at one door, putting a cold towel over my head, and a doctor and a nurse at the other end, trying to deliver my baby.

Phil was outside of his car, his hand on his chin. He wouldn't look at his car, let alone be supportive with me.

That's all I really needed, when it all comes down to one thing. Support. I had no support from Jude, no support from my best friends, who all abandoned me, and no support from the man who acted as my brother when I had no one. It seemed as though everyone had abandoned me, and I was completely on my own.

Despite the setting, it was a perfect delivery. Instead of Jude, who would have been my husband (as I imagined) cutting the cord, the nurse did, and then the tiny, bald, naked baby was placed on my chest, where I stared at it's little brown eyes.

He was a screamer.

I would carry him around the house singing gently and rocking him back and forth, trying to calm him down, but nothing could really stop him from screaming.

"Jude, please." I whispered, kissing his forehead. "Please be quiet for mummy?"

I dropped out of college to raise my baby Jude. Imagine what _that_ did to my reputation.


End file.
